


We Climb The Highest Heights

by SunSpell80



Series: TWD [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Carl's Hat, F/M, I just really want Carl and Enid to be happy okay?, Implied Sexual Content, No longer a one-shot, Now a collection of Carnid one-shots, Separately but also together, There does not seem to be a consensus on the ship name, complete fluff, or is it "Carlnid"?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSpell80/pseuds/SunSpell80
Summary: In which Carl and Enid occasionally get to be normal teenagers falling in love for the first time.





	1. Those Damn Rutabagas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of war breaking out, Carl and Enid get a moment to hang out and awkwardly flirt like teenagers.

In the wake of the Savior’s attack on Alexandria and the ease with which the Scavengers had escaped, it’s decided that they need to fortify their defenses. Which involves digging a ten foot deep trench to run along the inside of the wall, a solid protection against walkers and people alike. 

It’s grueling work, made even more grueling by the fact that it’s about 85 degrees today and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. But it’s important work too, which is why most of the citizens of Alexandria and some of the visiting members from the Hilltop are out here today, to make sure that this gets finished as quickly as possible. 

Enid ties her hair back in a braid, trying to get it off her neck. One long, rebellious strand slips out and she huffs in annoyance, trying to tuck it back in. But it simply refuses to stay put. “God damnit,” she mutters, giving up and plunging her shovel back into the ground with a grunt.

Across from her, Carl snickers, apparently finding amusement in her misfortune. Enid shoots him a scowl. 

“What? Want me to braid your hair, too?”

“It’s not long enough to braid,” he disputes.

“It was a week ago.”

“That’s why I let Michonne trim it.” Carl reaches up to squash his hat more firmly on his head, fingers brushing over his shaggy hair. “Maggie threatened me with the same thing, so I knew it was time.”

“It’s still feasible.” Enid evaluates with grave certainty. “I could give you pigtails.”

“What the _hell_ are pigtails?”

“Two little braids, one on either side.” Enid demonstrates with her hands, miming holding imaginary pigtails. “Come on, you have a little sister. These are things you need to know.”

“Well, when we finish, you can teach me how to braid Judith’s hair. If we _ever_ finish.” He wipes a hand across his sweaty forehead. “Damn it’s hot.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t aware.” Enid retorts back, her cheeks stinging from sunburn. “I wish we had some sunscreen.”

“That’s what hats are for,” Carl adjusts the brim of his hat so it better shields his face from the sun. His face is indeed obnoxiously free of sunburn. “You need to get yourself one.”

Enid resists the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Then, when he’s not paying attention a second later, she swipes his hat off his head.

Carl sputters indignantly. “ _Hey._ ”

“You said to get myself one,” Enid replies cheekily, plopping the hat on her own head. “Besides, you could use some sun.”

He tries to act like he’s upset with her, but can’t seem to control the smile peeking under his fake scowl. “Not all of us can pull off a farmer’s tan,” he says, indicating the obvious line from the t-shirt she’d been wearing when she worked with Maggie out in the Hilltop’s garden the other week.

“Yeah, you need to know your way around a vegetable garden for that.”

“I’ll have you know that I have spent _a lot_ of time in vegetable gardens!” Carl disputes, shaking his head at her. “An _inordinate_ amount of time, actually.”

“Hey, that reminds me, you never gave me book thirteen when you finished reading it,” Enid realizes, recognizing his emphasis on the word from a ridiculous book series they’d found in Alexandria’s library and had both been reading.

“Oh yeah, I still have that. The Saviors never bothered taking any of the books when they cleared us out. I’ll warn you though, the ending makes no sense.”

“Well, we never did find book eleven.”

“Yeah. But wait, the vegetables. Did I not tell you about the six months or so back at the prison when Dad decided to hang up his gun and become a farmer?”

Enid can’t help it. She snorts. “ _No_.” She can’t picture Rick Grimes hanging up his gun for anything, much less _farming_. 

“Yeah, he literally _buried his gun_ and put himself in charge of the little farm we were building there.” Carl shakes his head, nostalgia tinging his voice. “He made me do it too. Man, I hated that.”

Now Enid’s grinning. “I can imagine.” She can’t help but picture a preteen Carl, beet red with a glorious farmer’s tan, angrily shucking corn and whining _“but Daaaaaaaaad when can we go kill Walkers?”_

“He said it was 'character building'," Carl fondly imitates his father's strong southern twang. "And I guess it was. But at the time…God, I hated those damn Rutabagas.”

Enid throws back her head in laughter, and Carl’s hat nearly goes flying off. She reaches up to catch it and spots Carl looking at her oddly. “What?”

“Nothing.” Carl’s cheeks are tinged with red, but it hasn’t been long enough for it to be sunburn. “It’s just…looks good on you. The hat, I mean.”

“Oh.” Enid self-consciously tries to tuck the loose strand behind her ear. It of course defies her and falls against her face again. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. I mean, no problem.”

Enid nods awkwardly, not sure what to say.

 _“Uuuuuuuuuuughhhhhh_.” They both nearly jump out of their skin as Tara, who they had completely forgotten was also working on the trench near them, lets out a groan of dismay directed at the two of them. “This is torture, I swear to god. I feel like I’m in high school again. Learn to flirt better.”

Now Carl’s entire face is red. “Wasn't flirting.” He mutters, ducking his head and returning to his work with a new vigor, seemingly determined not to look at either Enid or Tara.

Enid turns to look at Tara, who mouths _“Yes he was”_ and she can’t help the grin that creeps onto her face.

She adjusts the brim of the hat. “You know, this does work pretty well. I think I might just keep it.”

“Not a chance in hell.”


	2. Southern Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Enid's first time. Surprisingly smut-less.

It happens because of the rain of all things.

The heavy downpour hits the Alexandria Safe-Zone like a tidal wave, sending its residents fleeing to their homes for shelter. It's a matter of pragmatism, really - staying out in the rain means running the risk of getting sick, which is a risk no one's willing to take in this era of post-modern medicine.

So that’s how Carl and Enid find themselves stuck in his house. Alone.

It’s sort of eerie at first. The Grimes house is _never_ quiet, thanks to little Judith and her love for narrating her every action through song. But Judith is with Carol today, Rick is on a run, Michonne is on perimeter duty, and Daryl is…well, Enid’s not sure what Daryl’s doing. She has no idea what Daryl does with his time. The man is still a mystery to her.

They just sort of hang out for awhile, listening to music and talking. It feels like old times. With Enid living at the Hilltop, they don’t get to spend as much time together and when they are together, there’s always something important that they need to do. This sort of lazy, rainy Saturday (okay, it’s technically Tuesday, but the five day workweek is a thing of the past so who cares) is unheard of for them.

Carl’s in the middle of telling her about the latest drama between Rosita and Eugene, when Enid finds herself abruptly distracted by his hands. He’s usually not very expressive when he talks, the result of years of having to restrain his emotions. Enid’s noticed, though, that the hands tend to start waving around when he’s truly, out of control angry…or when he’s completely and utterly relaxed. Recently, she’s been seeing the latter more than the former. 

“What?” He asks her, stopping mid-story, and Enid realizes that she’s started to grin at him. “Are you even paying attention?”

“No.” Enid admits, her smile widening when he rolls his eye in exasperation. “Your hands distracted me.”

“Oh, _did_ they?”

Enid throws the couch pillow at his face. “Not like _that_ , you perv.” She glances back down at his hands and swallows. The last time they’d had any alone time together (less than half an hour in the trailer she, Maggie, and Hershel Jr. co-habitated), those hands had definitely been put to good use. 

Damnit, now it _is_ like that. Enid presses her legs together, ignoring the heat spreading between them. Nope, this is not happening. Michonne could be back at any minute, which is the reason they’ve been just cuddling on the couch and talking. She does not want a repeat of The Pantry Incident™. 

She reminds herself of this even as Carl gives her _that_ smile, all innocence and boyish charm. She is not fooled.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

"Stop looking at me like you want to do things to me."

His grin widens and now it's definitely no longer innocent. "I  _do_ want to do things to you."

"You're the one who said Michonne could be back any minute."

"Yeah, when I thought she'd come back here after her shift. That was an hour ago. Obviously she's found somewhere to hold up until it stop pouring." His hand, which has been resting on her calf, moves up until it's on her thigh and starts rubbing in circles. "We've got the whole house to ourselves..."

Enid snorts. "You sound like a horny teenage boy trying to convince his date to have sex on prom night."

The hand pauses. "Well..." He trails off, looking at her significantly.

It clicks. "Wait. You actually  _do_ want to have sex? Like sex-sex, not like what we did in the trailer, or The Pantry Incident-"

Carl groans. "Why would you bring up The Pantry Incident? Are you trying to kill the mood?"

"I'm just  _clarifying_." Enid retorts defensively, feeling her skin prickle with a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness. She was not expecting this today. She probably would have worn something a little cuter if she had been - although, she supposes there's little point in that if they're just going to take their clothes off.

He shrugs, trying to be casual, but his red face gives away his embarrassment. "I mean, I'm not trying to convince you of anything, but if you wanted to have sex I wouldn't be opposed."

"You're so full of shit." Enid laughs, punching him in the arm, feeling the awkwardness between them dissipate as she does. "You want me so bad right now," she teases him, leaning into him and hovering so she's inches from his face.

She watches him visibly gulp. "Yeah. I do." Carl admits quietly, looking at her with that intense gaze of his.

Enid closes the gap, kissing him softly at first. It quickly becomes more aggressive as he grabs her ass and she fists her hand in his collar, moving her lips to trail down his neck. Neither of them speak as they get lost in their lust for each other (hey, at the end of the day, they  _are_ horny teenagers), their hands and mouths worshiping each other with the reverence and familiarity of being best friends as well as partners.

Carl is the first one to snap out of it. "Wait, wait." He pants, pulling back. His plaid overshirt is on the floor and the buttons of his henley are undone. Enid's in her bra, with her shirt all the way across the room hanging off the edge of a picture frame. She's not sure how it got there.

"You okay?" Enid asks, immediately backing off. Sometimes Carl will get flashes of bad memories. Enid's learned that the best way to handle it is to give him space and let him decide what the next move will be.

She can tell he knows what she's thinking, because he wraps his hand around her side, thumb caressing her stomach, and tugs her close again. Enid shivers at the feeling of his fingers splayed against her bare back. "Yeah, I'm good." Carl answers, pressing a reassuring kiss to her collarbone. "I just think we probably shouldn't have sex  _here_ , in case someone does come home. At least if we're upstairs we'll have some warning. And plus..." He makes a face. "...I'm pretty sure this is where my Dad and Michonne did it for the first time, so..."

Enid springs off the couch, not needing any further information. "Yeah, let's go." She agrees, reaching out her hands to tug him to his feet.

* * *

In spite of all the lectures from teachers in sex-ed classes back in middle school, it turns out sex is not the huge life-changing experience everyone makes it out to be.

Well, used to. Enid supposes most of those illusions disappeared for her that night that Maggie celebrated Hershel Jr. switching over from breastmilk to food by drinking an entire bottle of wine by herself, and regaled Enid with the tale of how she and Glenn fucked on the floor of a pharmacy the day after they met.

Apparently, it lasted a minute. Talk about love at first sight.

Enid's pretty sure, considering what she's heard about boys and their first times (and trust her, she's heard  _a lot_ about that, since all the women in her life seemed to have individually decided to impart their wisdom on her after her and Carl officially got together), that theirs was at least a respectable amount of time. It had been long enough that it had stopped feeling uncomfortable and started to actually feel sort of  _good_ \- and then it had ended. Which was more than she was expecting, at least.

It definitely hadn't been the painful horror-show her teachers had once warned her of. It also did not suddenly make her a woman. She was still Enid, same as before.

She snuggles closer to Carl, who's still flushed and breathing slowly. After he finished he'd latched onto her, holding her with so much desperation and love that it had been insanely difficult to pry him off in order to go clean up in the bathroom. When she'd come back, she thought he'd fallen asleep until he resumed his octopus-like hold on her as soon as she flopped back down on the bed.

She's never seen him so blissful before and it sort of makes her want to cry.

"Are you asleep?" She hears him ask, his voice so rough and deep that she clenches her thighs together instinctively at the sound. 

"No." Enid nuzzles her nose against his collarbone. 

"Good. Don't fall asleep, I'm gonna return the favor." He drawls.

Enid waits expectantly, but Carl shows no signs of moving.

"Okay...?"

He grumbles, pulling her closer. "Give me a few minutes. I'll rally."

"Uh-huh." Enid says skeptically. "I think you're gonna fall asleep."

"I will  _not_." Carl insists. "I have manners."

"Right, I forgot. Southern hospitality."

"Damn straight."

Enid waits a little longer. Carl still doesn't move.

"You know, if you're too tired, I won't even be mad. I'll take it as a compliment, actually, I was  _so good_ that you can't even muster the energy to move."

"Alright, you know what?" Carl unspools himself from around her, looking very much like a disgruntled puppy. "You're totally trying to goad me into going down on you."

"Is it working?"

"Of course it is, you know I can't resist a challenge." His smirk makes Enid's toes curl. "We'll see how smug you are once I've-"

There's the distinctive sound of the front door opening and then -

" _WE'RE H-O-O-O-O-ME!_ "

Carl groans, leaning back and hitting his head against his wall. "Damnit, Judith."

They look at each for a split second, before instantly springing off the bed and scrambling to put their clothes on as quickly as possible. Carl has his t-shirt, boxers, and socks (why he prioritizes putting on his socks before putting on his pants Enid will never know) on and Enid's got her pants on and is clasping her bra by the time she comes to a horrible realization.

"Wait. Where's my shirt?"

Carl and Enid stare at each other in stunned horror. 

"Whoops." 

* * *

Enid ends up borrowing one of Carl's old plaid shirts that he's outgrew a year or so ago and keeps shoved in the back of one of his drawers for some reason. It's ridiculously baggy on her (really, why is it so baggy, it's not like Carl is  _built_ or anything), and she tucks it into her jeans, hoping that it will pass as a fashion statement. 

"Enid, why are you wearing Carl's shirt?" Judith asks as the two make their way downstairs, trying their best not to look guilty.

"Uh...." Enid is keenly aware of Michonne's knowing eyes on her as the woman prepares Judith's afternoon snack of peanut butter and apples. "It doesn't fit him anymore so he's letting me have it. Like hand-me-downs."

"What's a hand-me-down?"

Right, of course Judith doesn't understand the concept of hand-me-downs.  _Everything_ is a hand-me-down nowadays.

"It's when people share things. Like clothes." Michonne explains simply, passing Judith her plate. While Judith is occupied, she looks up at her step-son with an expression that seems to say  _Really?_

"Well, it seems like the rain has stopped!" Carl blurts out loudly. "Looks like we can get back to helping out in the garden. Bye Michonne, bye Judy!"  

He tugs on Enid's hand, urging her to flee. They make it to the living room and are about to safely escape the house when Enid spins around, frowning. 

"Hold up."

Her eyes dart over to the picture frame, but the shirt is no longer there.

Shit.

"Looking for  _this_?" 

Michonne stands in the doorway to the kitchen, dangling Enid's shirt in front of her, like it's a used kleenex and she's afraid to touch it. 

"Oh." Enid answers. She's not quite sure why her voice sounds about an octave higher than normal. "Thank you." She crosses the room and gingerly takes the shirt from Michonne.

" _Mmm-hmm."_ Michonne looks between her and Carl, and folds her arms. It's more than mildly terrifying. Enid backs away, not wanting to turn her back on Michonne. She's seen what the woman can do with a sword. "Enjoy your day, now."

She smiles. It looks like a tiger baring it's teeth.

"We will." Enid smiles back nervously. Carl is looking between her and the doorway like he's trying to decide whether to wait for her or just make a run for it. Eventually Enid finally makes it back to him and they open the door, nearly free-

"Oh, and Carl!" Michonne calls out, making him freeze with one foot out the door.

"Yeah?" He replies, looking back over his shoulder.

"If you two are going to be having  _alone time_ in the house, make sure you put a sock on the door to your room. We don't want a repeat of The Pantry Incident."

With that, Michonne turns on her heel and heads back into the kitchen.

Carl remains frozen in the doorway, looking very much like he would like the earth to swallow him whole.

Enid pats him reassuringly on the back.

"Well, at least nobody cried this time."

* * *

 

Daryl Dixon enters the collective home he shares with the Grimes family, exhausted from his day. He'd spent the morning hunting, only to return to find that everyone had fled inside as soon as it started to sprinkle. Like they were the witch from wizard of oz and thought they'd melt or some shit. Then he'd spent the rest of the day trying to help finish up all the work people had neglected because of the rain. How would these people even survive without him?

He tosses his boots into the corner and frowns when he hears a strange noise upstairs. Rick's still out on a run, Michonne's with Judith on their daily evening walk, and he's pretty sure Carl's still helping in the garden.

Daryl creeps up the stairs, crossbow drawn. It wouldn't be the first time an intruder snuck into their house and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

As he rounds the corner to the landing of the stairs, he notices something on Carl's door.

_A sock?_

Suddenly a loud moan emanates from behind the door.

"Oh God, _Carl_ -"

 _Nope._ Nope, nope, nope.

Daryl  _flew_ down the stairs as silently as he could, not bothering the time to lace his boots back up, just shoving them on his feet and escaping.

He runs down the porch and doesn't stop until he's about fifty yards from the house. Then he braces his hands against his knees, practically panting from the adrenaline spike.

"I've gotta get my own damn place," Daryl grumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pantry Incident started as a one-off joke that escalated into a recurring gag and now I have the backstory of it almost completely fleshed out, so you may find another one-shot entitled "The Pantry Incident" coming your way soon.
> 
> Click the link to view actual footage of Daryl Dixon in this chapter:  
> https://goo.gl/images/7qqL85 


	3. Disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in 5.12 "Remember" after Carl meets Ron, Mikey, and Enid.  
> No Enid in this chapter, just a conversation between Ron and Carl that I thought of.

After about a couple of hours playing video games, Carl excused himself, claiming his dad would be expecting him soon. That wasn’t true, he just found himself getting more agitated and jumpier the longer he played. The controller felt plastic and cheap and _fake_ under his thumbs. It was all so fake. Like an illusion that would shatter if he looked at it too hard.

Enid had abandoned them awhile ago, without saying a word. He’d looked back to see if she was still reading on the bed, and she’d been gone. “Yeah, she does that.” Mikey had explained, flawlessly executing a combination without even trying. He’d obviously played this game alot. “She’s sort of like a cat.”

If Enid was a cat, then Ron was a puppy, bounding to Carl’s side as soon as he told them he was leaving. “I’ll walk you out!” He exclaimed, showing Carl through the house as if they hadn’t just walked up here together a couple hours ago.

They reached the door and Carl turned to Ron, who showed no signs of leaving him alone. “Thanks for having me over. It was…” Weird? Confusing? Overwhelming? “…fun.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming!” Ron enthused. “And seriously, you can come over anytime. You don’t need to be invited or ask or even knock, just come on in!” 

Carl nodded, thinking that Ron was awfully welcoming for someone who literally knew nothing about him. While part of him was suspicious at the too-nice treatment of the Alexandrians, the more time he spent here the more he was becoming convinced that these people were just naive.

“Sorry if I seem a little too excited.” Ron apologized, obviously picking up on Carl’s reluctance. “It’s just, it’s cool to have another guy my age to hang out with. Mikey’s nice and all, but he’s kind of…we don’t really have a lot in common.”

“Oh.” Carl said, because he didn’t know how else to reply to that. He was pretty sure he had far less in common with any of these people than they had with each other.

Ron seemed to understand his confusion, elaborating: “Mikey’s family had a lot of money, before. So he’s always complaining about rationing and having to save energy. I think he thinks we’re roughing it here. My family, we were able to get here pretty quickly, but we used to live in a trailer park, man. This place is crazy nice, especially considering how bad things are out there. I mean, these houses are huge.”

“Yeah.” Carl relaxed slightly, giving Ron a tentative smile. “Even our house from before was nothing like these places. It wasn’t a trailer, but it was pretty small. Or at least, it felt like it at the time.”

“Hey, even if it wasn’t a trailer, I bet you’ve lived in some pretty gnarly places to make up for it,” Ron pointed out. “But the point is, you get it. This place is amazing and we should be grateful we’re here, instead of constantly bitching about it.”

“Well, yeah.” He’d hardly spent any time around Mikey, hadn’t heard him say a negative word about it yet, but it already grated on Carl’s nerves to think about him complaining about the conditions here. “What about Enid, though? She doesn’t complain, does she?”

“Of course not,” Ron dismissed. “But, ah…that’s different.”

Carl cocked his head. “Because she’s a girl?” Back before, when he still went to school, boys and girls tended to stay away from each other, because whenever a boy and a girl would form a friendship they’d get teased about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He was pretty sure that all went down the drain with the apocalypse though. Ron scratched at his neck sheepishly. “Oh. Are you together?”

Ron shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.” His cheeks were pink. “We’ve, like, kissed and stuff.”

Carl nodded. “That’s cool.” He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed all of a sudden. 

Okay, that wasn’t true, he knew exactly why. There hadn’t been any girl close to his age since Sophia had died. Lizzie had been two years younger than him, but she’d been pretty obviously screwed up in the head. Beth had been five years older than him, and he’d harbored a pretty massive and embarrassing crush on her until she’d started dating Zach and he realized that she was probably never going to see him as anything other than a little brother. 

For the past almost two years he’d watched the adults around him falling in love, partnering up, and finding joy in making those special connections with each other. And somewhere along the line he’d sort of just accepted that would never happen for him. He’d never have a girlfriend, he’d never have his first kiss, he’d never have sex, he’d never have a family of his own. 

Then they’d arrived here and Enid was the first person he had seen, even if only for a moment. Then the comic book he’d found lying around had turned out to be hers (and it looked like they had similar tastes too), and she was the only one of the teenagers who had spent time outside of Alexandria…and it had all sort of felt like a sign.

But apparently she was dating Ron. Also, more importantly, she didn’t seem to even _like_ him, if her attitude when she’d hung out with them earlier was anything to go by. Carl had never had a girlfriend, but he was pretty sure actually liking the other person was a critical part of any relationship. Even if that wasn’t just common sense, the breakdown of his parent’s marriage would have taught him that.

So, it looked like that still wasn’t going to happen for him. Carl could get over it. He’d gotten over far worse things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katelyn Nacon has said in an interview that Ron and Enid's relationship meant basically nothing to her. She said "they are like boyfriend and girlfriend but to be honest, if Ron got eaten or something, it wouldn't affect her. Because, especially during that time when they started to get 'closer' - and I put air quotes around that - she was definitely more closed off that what she is now." So I could totally see them kissing once and Ron being like "welp, we're together now!" and Enid being like "fine, it's not worth the effort of arguing about this, you'll probably be dead in like a month anyway."


End file.
